


That Starfleet Debacle

by Zauzat



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zauzat/pseuds/Zauzat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy's only been in Starfleet for 24 hours and already he hates it. If he could just remember why he decided to join...</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Starfleet Debacle

**Author's Note:**

> **Betas:** [](http://imachar.livejournal.com/profile)[**imachar**](http://imachar.livejournal.com/) and [](http://random00b.livejournal.com/profile)[**random00b**](http://random00b.livejournal.com/)

“--and to call yourself a damned instructor given your sub-par understanding of what this procedure actually involves is a travesty!” McCoy was on his feet, fists on the desk, glaring furiously at the instructor of his Introduction to Neurology class.

“And who might you be, with this wealth of knowledge you apparently possess, cadet?” demanded the instructor, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s doctor to you. Doctor McCoy.”

“Right, so this research was done by some relative of yours and that makes you an expert?”

McCoy drew himself up to his full height, crossing his arms over a broad chest. “This research on neural grafting procedures was done by Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy. Allow me to introduce myself. Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy distinctly not at your service. When this damn mockery of a medical establishment gets itself some competent instructors, send me a note. Otherwise I am out of here.” McCoy swept up his PADD, comm and bag and stalked out of the lecture hall.

He leant against the wall outside, trying to bring his raging temper back under control. Six hours into the first day of his four-year training course at Starfleet Medical and he was already pissing off his instructors. Great. Just fucking great.

“That was impressive.” A slender blonde woman in a cadet nursing uniform was watching him.

“You heard?”

“Half the building heard. And of course it’s all captured on the security cameras. It’s not supposed to happen but I bet you a hundred credits that the video clip of that is doing the rounds of the intranet by tonight.”

McCoy groaned.

“Most cadets will agree with you, though. Commander Fabregas is a pompous ass, who’s not nearly as good as he thinks he is. And he’s a sexist shit in the bargain.”

“For sure, he thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow. But sexist?”

The nurse shrugged unhappily. “I’m in his second-year neurology for nursing class and I’m really battling with the term project. He as good as told me that if I was extra helpful to him in my free time, he’d get my project through.”

“You can report that kind of shit,” McCoy said indignantly.

“Yeah, in theory. But clever men don’t just order cadets to their knees. You can’t do that these days. It was all so subtly worded that he can easily say I misinterpreted him. But I know I damned well didn’t.” She sighed heavily. “At least you can get out of it. If you’re a qualified doctor, why are you doing the intro classes anyway?”

“I don’t need to?”

“Well, no. Don’t you know what you signed up for?” She looked at him incredulously.

He grimaced. “Not exactly. I haven’t been sober for more than few hours since I first enlisted to when my first class started this morning.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “So I don’t need to do this kindergarten shit?”

“No, you get credits for your medical degree, and if you’re really the author of that neural grafting research, you’d get credits for all that kind of stuff as well. With that sort of experience you should be able to finish up in three years.”

“You, darlin’, are clearly an angel sent down from heaven. I hate all this red-tape bureaucratic bullshit. I feel like I’ve been caught between a dog and a fire hydrant all week long. But you sound like you know what you’re doing.”

She smiled. “I’m good at organizational stuff. And I’ve a cousin working in admissions, so I’ve got an inside line.”

“Right, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take down my full resume and rework my schedule to do as few classes as possible, at the most senior level possible. And in exchange I’m gonna whip that term project into shape for you and coach you through the details so you can do the oral defense and grind his smug face in your brilliance. Deal?” He held out a large hand to her.

She took it, flashing him a wide smile. “Deal! I like the way you think, doctor.”

“McCoy. Leonard McCoy.”

“Christine Chapel.”

As she took off with his resume now downloaded to her PADD, McCoy grinned to himself. At least one thing had gone right since this entire Starfleet debacle started. He just wished he could remember why he’d thought it a good idea to enlist in the first place.

* * *

He sat on a wall in the sunshine, watching the crowds of cadets surge past him, contemplating his next problem. Frankly he didn’t expect to last much more than a term at Starfleet – this kind of authoritarian crap really got his back up – but even a term with his current dorm-mate was a term too long.

He’d had a beautiful six-bedroom house set in ten acres of land on the outskirts of Atlanta. And now he was sharing a shoebox, complete with a bed barely wider than his own substantial shoulders, with a pimply teenager who chewed gum with his mouth open and played nebula-rock at ear-splitting volumes through his headphones all night long. When had kids started calling that crap _music_?

McCoy hadn’t been prepared to put up with this kind of shit when he had been a teenager. A decade later there was no way he was living through a second adolescence. He hadn’t really appreciated the horror of his room assignment through the week of orientation as nebula-rock-boy and he had both been out partying hard through most nights. But now there was work to be done and he couldn’t do it like this.

He sighed. Four god-damned years of this. He needed the equivalent of a Christine Chapel to redo his housing assignment. He thought through the sea of blurred and utterly unmemorable faces he’d meet in the last week. Then one jumped out. Cocky, a rule-breaker and – if he remembered correctly – claiming to be a first class hacker. And the kid had beamed him his number. He snapped open his comm.

“Kirk. McCoy here. Meet me at the coffee shop on the quad, now.”

“Hey Bones, I’ve got a class--“

“Skip it, I’ve got a better offer for you.” McCoy snapped his comm closed. _Bones_ indeed. The kid had cheek. But he had character too, which is more than he could say for all the little ass-licking command clones trooping around campus in their shiny cadet reds.

McCoy was sucking down a double-espresso when Kirk arrived. “Dude, my instructor wasn’t too pleased when I cut the class. I told him it was a medical emergency!”

McCoy grinned. “And so it is. How’s dorm living going for you, kid?”

Kirk thumped his head dramatically against the wall. “I’ve got the most strait-laced little snot of a swot anyone could imagine. I tried to explain the sock signal to him – you know? The sock on the door means make yourself scarce ‘cos your roommate is rocking the house. He was horrified. He’s banned me from bringing anyone back to our room. Ever! How the hell am I going to run my social life?”

“Okay, listen up, kid. At my age there’s gotta be a way I can get into family housing. I hear they’ve got these two-bedroom units with a kitchenette on the edge of campus. Get me into one of those and you can have the other bedroom. Use whatever it takes, my qualifications, my age, tell them we’re married, I don’t give a shit. Just get me out of that fucking dorm before I volunteer my room-mate for organ donation!”

Kirk’s eyes lit up. “Seriously, I get a bedroom? I can do that. I met the cutest girl doing room assignments last week, got her comm number and everything. And if that doesn’t work, I can always hack into the system…” He was already typing furiously into his PADD, seeking a way into the administration section of the intranet.

“I don’t want details, kid, just make it happen. And you can bring home all the men, women and other sentient beings that you wish. Just keep your damned bedroom door closed!”

Kirk jumped to his feet and threw McCoy a cocky salute. “Sir, yes sir! I’ll need to do this from the computer lab. Expect to hear from me soon.” And he was off. “And no nebula rock,” McCoy yelled after him. Kirk spun back to give him a puzzled look. “Sure, dude, whatever. That stuff is crap.”

McCoy smiled to himself. Second problem on its way to being solved. Now he just had to work out how to kill time up until then. He was not spending another single night with nebula-rock-boy in the shoebox. And after the world’s most expensive divorce - yeah, so maybe he shouldn’t have back-chatted the judge quite so badly - he didn’t have the money to spare for a hotel room.

So - he needed to pick someone up, someone who’d provide some stress release after this cluster-fuck of a day and then have decent accommodation for the night. Which meant an officer. A little flirtatious chatting with the barista got him the crucial information on which bars and clubs the officers hung out at. He headed back to his dorm to shower and change.

Back in his room, he pulled on tight black jeans, the soft material cupping his ass to perfection. On top went a black buttoned shirt, the buttons only done halfway up, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. A subtle aftershave, his thick cowlicks brought almost under control but tantalizingly not quite. And finally the chunky watch he’d inherited from his father. A girlfriend once told him he could wear the shit out of a watch. He checked himself out in the mirror. Looking good. Time to go hunting.

* *

Chris Pike stood in the lounge of his renovated Victorian and wondered what to do with himself. There were papers to be marked. Lectures to prepare. Design schemata of the new ship to consider. New recruitment protocols to be drawn up. He couldn’t bear the thought of doing any of it.

With a sigh, he considered the large drawing of the _Enterprise_ that hung on the wall. At the time it had seemed like a small sacrifice to make to take command of the new flagship. Four years dirt-side shaking up the recruitment processes for Starfleet, while lecturing in tactics and command, and supervising the fitting out of his new baby. It had sounded quite exciting.

Now it felt as if he’d sold himself to the devil. At the heart of each of his duties were interesting challenges but they were smothered in paperwork and politics and in the pomposity that characterized Starfleet command. He spent so much time biting his lip to stop himself saying what he really thought, he was surprised there wasn’t a scar.

Damn the work. It would still be there tomorrow. Tonight he was going out, getting a drink, taking a few hours to forget his growing unease about what he’d gotten himself into.

As he paused by the door to grab his corduroy jacket, he considered his reflection in the hallway mirror. If he was honest with himself - and he generally was - it wasn’t just boredom that was getting him down back here on earth. He was used to being _Captain_ \- to being the most senior officer in the vicinity, with total control of his mission. Being back on earth where he was barely middle-ranking in the rarified air of Starfleet Command was something of a come-down.

Shaking himself free of his melancholy thoughts, he headed out of the door. Tonight he wanted something exciting to happen. He wanted to take a risk. He wanted to be surprised.

* *

McCoy leant on the bar at the _Bear and Sehlat_ and looked around. This was the classiest of the bars that he’d been directed to. He didn’t want some mere ensign or lieutenant. He’d take a commander or a captain, thank you. Even an Admiral. Man, woman, hell – a tentacle creature would do, as long as they were an officer, interested him, and had a place to go to.

He sipped his glass of Woodford Reserve and watched the crowd. The night was young and he was in no hurry, although he’d pick and be out of here before anyone got too drunk. Just because he might have vomited on his own shoes once or twice in the past traumatic weeks didn’t mean he was going to put up with a partner doing it.

His attention was caught by an older man who was working his way through the crowd, stopping to talk to various acquaintances. Tall and lean, wearing black pants and a corduroy jacket. Carried himself with authority but the jacket said he didn’t take himself too seriously. Hands in his pockets, which lifted the back of the jacket enough to reveal a fine-looking ass. Nice, thought McCoy. He could see himself doing that.

He continued to watch, planning his line of attack. The man turned towards him. Thick grey hair in a strict military cut except for one or two longer curls escaping over his forehead. A white collared shirt with a black tie pulled down to the breast bone. Just the thing to pull him against McCoy’s chest. McCoy adjusted himself surreptitiously and waited for his chance to take action.

Then the man looked towards him, seemed to look straight at him. Blue eyes. Big beautiful dusky-blue eyes framed with laugh-lines, a deep ocean of blue a man could lose himself in. McCoy completely forgot his plan of attack. Abandoning his drink he marched over and grabbed the man by the tie. “You! I remember you. This is your fucking fault. This entire Starfleet debacle.”

“Excuse me?” queried the man, as Leonard hustled him away from the noisy room into a quieter passage.

“You’re the reason I enlisted, you bastard. I remember now. I was minding my own damned business, drowning my sorrows in some first-rate bourbon and you came along, you and your fucking blue eyes. You fucking owe me!”

“I owe you?” The man sounded amused. “What do I owe you?”

“I only let you talk to me ‘cos I thought you were fixin’ to pick me up. I thought you’d be a good way to pass a crap evening. And then off you went with all the Starfleet bullshit. Higher purpose and moral duty and contributions for the greater good of sentient kind. Such a pile of crap!”

“Yeah, I remember you. That doctor down in Atlanta with the fancy resume. You liked the sound of what I had to say at the time.” The man smirked at him.

“I liked the sound of you! Besides, I was drunk!”

“You had to have signed the enlistment papers sober, though. We don’t press-gang drunks.”

“That was the next morning,” McCoy grumbled. “My just-become-ex-wife had told me to get the hell off the planet. The fistful of documents you left on my comm seemed the way to do it. Either way it’s your fault and you’re gonna make it up to me.” He had the officer pinned against the wall and was seriously invading the man’s personal space. There didn’t seem to be any objections. “I only let you talk to me ‘cos I was expecting to get some spectacular sex. So spectacular sex is what I’m gonna get.

He brazenly pulled the man’s shirt out from the pants and ran his hand up under it. A beautifully furry treasure trail led up towards a firm chest. Oh yeah. This might not fully compensate for the indignities he’d had to put with all day but it was a damned good start!

* * *

Pike grabbed the doctor’s hand by the wrist. McCoy’s assurance was surprisingly attractive but there were limits. Pike wasn’t used to being manhandled into bar corridors by random acquaintances. “I don’t go around fucking cadets, or fucking strangers, for that matter.”

“I’m a doctor,” mumbled McCoy as he mouthed his way up Pike’s neck, apparently not having picked up the hint about backing off. “Renowned researcher, first-class trauma surgeon. Fuck being a cadet. That’s just a temporary aberration.” He sucked on an earlobe and then ran his tongue up the edge of Pike’s ear. It was very distracting to Pike’s attempts to disengage.

“And I’m not a stranger. We’ve met before, had a drink together back down in Atlanta, didn’t we now?” McCoy was the same height as him, and was kissing his way across Pike’s cheek, then licking at the edge of his mouth, while pressing a muscled thigh firmly between his legs. “I’m a doctor. Know a whole lot of mighty useful stuff about anatomy; know just what to do to get you moaning with pleasure, begging for more.”

Pike laughed despite himself. The trouble with being the likely captain of the new flagship was that every ambitious cadet on campus was forever trying to ingratiate themselves with him. McCoy’s complete lack of interest in his status was refreshing. “Damn but you’re sure of yourself! It’s kind of sexy. My name’s Chris, by the way, not that you’ve asked.”

“Chris, Mike, George – I don’t give a damn, darlin’. When I’ve got you pinned down, writhing under me, you’re gonna be callin’ me Jesus Fucking Christ and I’m gonna be callin’ you whatever I feel like! Now, we’re headin’ back to your place, because, trust me, you do not want to meet my room-mate.” And with that he began to propel Pike down the corridor towards the back exit.

Pike let himself be pushed, too intrigued by where this might go to give much thought to his own dignity. “You’re one pushy bastard,” he said as they exited from the heated corridor into the cool night air. “So what makes you think that you’re going to top, anyway?” He had no intention of letting the cadet top but he was interested to see how McCoy argued his corner.

“Damn straight, I’m topping. I’ve been screwed over more than enough by Starfleet in the past week. Time to get my own back. But don’t worry, darlin’--“ he slid a proprietary hand down onto Pike’s ass “--it’ll be good like you’ve never known it before. I know a thing or two about successful sodomy!”

Pike snorted with disbelief. “I see! But aren’t you just divorced? Where’s all this experience come from? Or was your playing around why it all went to hell?”

McCoy shoved Pike up against a convenient wall, hands fisted in his shirt. “Fuck you. Why it went to hell is none of your fucking business. Trust me, it takes two to tango - or to fuck the tango up.” He bit down hard on Pike’s lower lip, his hands scraping down the firm chest. “But believe me sugar, my ex-wife was a kinky little shit with an ego the size of a planet, best accommodated by having more than one man worshipping her at a time. We had a lot of fun inviting home friends. I’m not some demoralized divorcee a decade out of practice with screwing strangers.”

“So I see,” said Pike, his voice rather breathless as McCoy’s limber hands pushed down into his pants. He was startled by his own arousal in the face of the doctor’s aggression. He got plenty of offers but they seldom came from men with the same natural authority that he had himself. This encounter was turning out to be both more challenging and more intriguing than he had anticipated. “Can we please get this to a private place before we both get arrested for public indecency.

McCoy chuckled. “I like it when you say please to me, sugar. It sounds good on you. So where’s this pad of yours, then?”

* * *

It turned out that Pike lived conveniently close, in an apartment in the officers’ block just beyond the family housing units that McCoy had his eye on. Pike concentrated on getting all the access locks open while McCoy concentrated on getting his hands onto as much warm skin as he could without actually stripping the man down in public. Lean, muscular, furry, and not saying no - just the way he liked it.

They tumbled through Pike’s front door. “Strip,” ordered McCoy. “I want you naked on your bed, on your back, hands crossed above your head. And I want it now.”

“Now hang on a damned minute,” snapped Pike. “This is my home and I don’t take orders from brash strangers, however sexy they may be.”

McCoy pushed right up against the other man, deliberately forcing him backwards towards the bedroom. “Well, bless your heart! I bet most people snap to attention when you use that tone of voice, don’t they? You’ve just gotta put on that stern look and they’re falling over themselves to do what you want, ain’t they? Well, not me, darlin’. I don’t give a shit how important you are.” He now had Pike in the bedroom, backed up against the large bed. “If I want you on your knees, sugar, that’s where you’re gonna be.”

He pushed Pike backwards. Pike resisted, grabbing his arms. For a moment they stood chest to chest, each testing the strength of the other. The officer might be some two decades older than McCoy but he was clearly in shape and of course combat trained. But any ideas he had that he could easily overpower the doctor were soon dispelled.

“Stressful job, doctoring,” McCoy said hotly against his ear as he stood firm against the pressure. “Some douches deal with sugar or caffeine, but not me. Distance running and kick-boxing, sugar, and when I do somethin’, I do it well. You may be able to take me down - eventually - but I’ll make you sorry you did.”

He deliberately stepped back and then when Pike relaxed, pushed the officer hard in the chest, knocking him back onto the bed. McCoy crawled on top of him, pinning the man in the cage of his limbs. “Now stop bein’ contrary, darlin’. You’re wastin’ time we could be spending on the sexin’.”

With the other man glaring up at him, McCoy decided the moment had come to change tactics. He lent down, peppering feather-light kisses up the side of the face frowning up at him. “Trust me. Let me make it good for you. Don’t you ever want to give up on all that command bullshit and let someone else take charge for a while?”

Pike watched him warily. McCoy continued to whisper to him in a low growl, his mouth close to Pike’s ear. “Go on. Do something different for once in your life. How long is it since you’ve given it up to another man? I bet you’re too important to allow that, ain’t you? Master of your universe.” He held his mouth just above Pike’s, teasing the lower lip with his tongue. “Take a risk. I dare you.”

Pike, seemingly having come to some kind of decision, deliberately relaxed. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. You’d better be as good as you claim to be. But go slow, it’s been a while.” McCoy licked an approving stripe up the side of his throat. “Good choice, darlin’. Now just you relax and remember that the doctor knows best.”

McCoy rethought his choice about having the officer naked. He ended up leaving on the white shirt, now unbuttoned - it framed the muscular chest and firm stomach so very nicely . He left on the tie as well - that came in useful for pulling the man up for the occasional steamy kiss. The rest all came off, revealing long shapely legs, lightly furred, that shifted restlessly as he nibbled his way up the soft inner thighs.

He ostentatiously ignored the bobbing erection, despite Pike’s unsubtle thrusts of his groin towards McCoy’s mouth. Pulling off altogether, he undressed in a leisurely way, keeping eye contact with the officer all the time. When an impatient Pike reached for his own cock, McCoy slapped his hand away. “Oh no, I don’t think so. I’ll decide when that happens.”

McCoy clambered back onto the bed, straddling the broad chest, pushing Pike’s arms up above his head. “Now let’s see what else you can do with that pretty mouth other than trot out those trite recruitment speeches.” Shuffling up the bed, he used one hand to steer the head of his prick towards Pike’s mouth, while using the other to help stuff some more pillows behind the man’s head.

Pike opened up beautifully and McCoy watched in satisfaction, hands pushed deep into the thick grey hair, as his cock was eaten down, laved underneath by an able tongue, scraped gently on top by even teeth. “Now ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. That, darlin’, is what I call an inspirational recruitment message!” Still, good though it was, it still wasn’t quite the message McCoy had in mind for Starfleet’s brass. “Roll over sugar, legs tucked up under you. I want to see that pretty ass I’m fixin’ to take apart.”

* *

As Pike rolled over, he was wondering how the fuck he’d gotten himself into this position. He’d never intended to let the cadet take charge. Hell, he not actually intended to end up in the bed with the cadet to start with. But something about McCoy’s implacable confidence and steady authority was lighting a fire in his belly that he’d not felt since coming earth-side.

“Slow, remember,” he warned. McCoy slapped him on the ass, not too hard, just enough to sting. “No orders from you, darlin’. The doctor’s in charge now.” To illustrate his point, he pulled the shapely buttocks open and bit down hard on the inside of one cheek. Pike jumped and swore, almost ready to pull away, end the encounter there and then.

But then McCoy laughed and licked across the teeth marks he’d left, carefully not quite touching the rosy pucker that was concealed in the crack. He continued with a leisurely tease, small nips on the buttocks, teeth scraped across the perineum, softly furred balls sucked into his mouth. It was just too good to give up on. Pike kept up a muffled litany of swearing, half aimed at the doctor, half at himself, that eventually clarified into a grumpy complaint of: “Get the fuck on with it! A man could die of old age here.”

“Patience, darlin’, I’ve barely begun.” McCoy pushed him over onto his side and - _finally_ \- sucked his aching cock into a hot mouth while sliding lubed fingers slide down behind his balls. For all the doctor’s brashness, his fingers were gentle as they slowly breached the tight hole hidden between his buttocks. Pike had a hand buried in McCoy’s thick hair but any attempt to control or direct earned him a sharp pinch to the thigh and he soon gave up on that idea, letting himself surf on the waves of sensation offered by the doctor’s inquisitive tongue and probing fingers.

McCoy took his time, lavishly laving Pike’s cock with his tongue while slowly working two and then three fingers deep in his ass. “So tight, darlin’. You don’t give this up easily, do you? I like that thought. This here velvet-soft ass of yours may yet convince me that Starfleet has its merits.”

“So glad to be of service,” groaned Pike as McCoy twisted his fingers in a particularly inspirational way.

“You’re provin’ to be mighty fine,” declared McCoy as he pushed Pike’s legs up towards his shoulders, slid his thighs in under the taut buttocks and breached the slick little hole with his cock. “Oh yes! Sugar, so good!” Pike groaned as McCoy pushed all the way in a single fluid stroke.

“Good thing you officer types are taught how to take it,” declared McCoy with an evil smirk as he pulled back out, teased Pike with his head rubbing tantalizingly just inside the tight ring of muscle. Somewhere, someday, Pike was going to have words with the doctor about proper respect for his superiors, but it wasn’t going to happen right now. McCoy slammed back in. Pike grabbed the headboard. “Hold on darlin’, it’s gonna be a wild ride,” declared McCoy as he began to screw Pike good and proper.

* * *

The doctor lost himself in the tight soft heat of the officer’s ass for a time, luxuriating in the hot tight clench around his cock. Still, he’d promised to make it good and he wasn’t going to renege on that. He began to shift his angles slightly in search of that magical something…. And there it was, as Pike’s panting was interrupted by a sudden shocked inhale and his lithe body jerked upwards. McCoy slowed his rhythm, concentrating now on brushing past Pike’s prostate with every stroke.

The man’s beautiful skin was covered by a fine sheen of sweat and McCoy licked off the salt with messy strokes of his tongue. Pike was whining now, an incoherent sound high in the back of his throat. Now that was what McCoy called music. He grabbed Pike’s throbbing cock with a lube-slick hand and stroked firmly up it. “Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck, that’s good,” groaned Pike as he came, spurting pearly come all over McCoy’s hand.

“Told you, darlin’” said McCoy triumphantly, looking down at the debauched officer lying sprawled below him. “Jesus Fucking Christ at your service. Now you just suck on that like a good boy--“ he pushed his semen-covered fingers into Pike’s mouth “--while I finish up here.” He grabbed one of Pike’s thighs with his other hand to steady himself and let himself go in a set of long, hard strokes that took him spiraling into orgasm.

“McCoy,” said Pike at last, as they lay side by side in the wreckage of the sheets, panting, “how the hell am I supposed to sit in an office chair for an entire day tomorrow?” McCoy smirked. “Doctor, darlin’. I’ll fix it for you after I’ve had a little shut-eye. Been a tough-ass day.” And with that he rolled over, pushed his face in the crook of Pike’s neck and went to sleep.

* * *

Pike woke early, as usual. When he tried to move, a strong arm wrapped possessively around his waist. Even in his sleep, McCoy managed to grumble to himself as he buried his face in Pike’s armpit, denying the existence of daylight and morning and getting up. Pike sighed to himself. Reduced to a mouthy cadet’s teddy bear. Still, the doctor was the most interesting person he’d met in months. If he could just try and get McCoy under some sort of control, he might be worth keeping around.

He mentally wrote off his morning run and picked up his comm instead to catch up with his messages. Within a few minutes he noticed that Phil Boyce was online.

He typed quickly into the chat box: [[ Remember how you bet me that I’d never get Jim Kirk through the Academy? ]]

[[ With that criminal record? Yeah, no way! So? ]]

[[ I see your Jim Kirk and raise you one Dr Leonard McCoy! ]]

[[ Fuck!! How did he come to YOUR attention? I’ve already had a dozen complaints about him. And there’s a hell of vid clip doing the rounds on the intranet. His resume looked so damned good :( ]]

Pike grinned to himself as he typed rapidly. [[Oh, he’s good alright! Well worth keeping in SF. If I can keep Kirk under control, you can manage McCoy. First one to have their cadet drop out buys the other dinner at Nieto del Bulli on the inner ring of Venus. You on? ]]

[[ Pick the most expensive restaurant in the solar system, why don’t you? OK, we’re on! BTW what is he’s good supposed to mean?! You’re behaving yourself, right? ]]

Pike glanced down at the tousled head resting on his chest. [[ Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to!! You should take over as his academic advisor. He’s going to need a firm hand from someone he respects. ]]

[[ Good point. I’ve changed that right now. So he’s got a meeting with me this morning. I’ll comm him. Unless you’re in a position to tell him yourself, hmmmm?! ]]

[[ Don’t ask!! Plausible deniability!! Lunch at 1300? You can tell me how the meeting with him went. ]]

[[ OK, you’re buying! CU later. ]]

As Boyce went off-line, Pike nudged McCoy roughly awake.

“Get up, you lazy bastard. You’ve a meeting with your academic advisor this morning.”

“Don’t wanna,” grumbled McCoy, burying his face in the pillow. “Kid’s about fourteen, ain’t started shaving yet. ‘M not interested in his damned advice.”

“Your advisor’s been reassigned. You are now reporting directly to Dr Philip Boyce.”

McCoy’s head shot up off the pillow. “Dr Boyce. As in Admiral Boyce? As in Starfleet’s Surgeon-General?”

“The one and only.”

“Bullshit. Since when does the Surgeon-General supervise first year cadets?”

“Since you arrived. It’s quite the honor, McCoy.”

The doctor stared at him through narrowed eyes. “How d’you know this, anyway?”

“We were chatting on the comm just now. He’s my old CMO.”

McCoy pulled himself up into a sitting position. “Do go on. Chatting to the Surgeon-General? Your old CMO?” Pike watched as McCoy glanced around the bedroom. Starfleet was not big on ostentatious accoutrements for senior officers but there were still telltale signs. McCoy’s gaze took in the generous picture windows and the view of the forest they afforded. He noticed the genuine wood of the bedstead and the thick pile of the carpet. He glanced at the captain’s bands on the sleeve of the uniform laid out on the dresser. “What did you say your name was, again?”

Pike smirked at him. “Classy, McCoy. Real classy!”

“I was busy, dammit. You didn’t seem to be objecting at the time!”

“I couldn’t get a word in edgeways, at the time.”

“So? Your name?”

“Chris Pike.”

McCoy helped himself to Pike’s comm and tapped the name in the intranet search engine. Pike watched over his shoulder as the long list of results appeared. Chief recruiter. Senior command-track instructor. Ex-captain of the _USS Yorktown_. Recipient of the Archer Award for heroism in the field. Youngest captain in history. And hotly tipped to be the captain of the new flagship, the _USS Enterprise_.

McCoy stared blankly at the screen for a long moment. “Right. The _Enterprise_. The ship every single shiny-faced ass-licking ambitious cadet wants to serve on. So you and me, on a scale of 1 to 10, how inappropriate is this?”

“About 17,” replied Pike. “But I enjoy taking the occasional risk. Given that you’re on the medical track, rather than in the Academy, it’s not forbidden as such. The higher-ups won’t approve though.”

McCoy grinned. “Well, that cheers me up no end. Nothing like pissing off the higher-ups. And as for you, classic alpha-type risk-taker, ain’t you? No wonder you’re in it for command.”

“Thanks for pop psych 101, doc,” said Pike dryly. “But seriously, you can get a hell of lot done with the authority of Starfleet behind you, good worthwhile stuff. You’ve just need to hang on through the initial training. You’ve proved you can get what you want when you put your mind it.” He waved his hand between the two of them. “Now put your mind to finishing the cadet track.”

McCoy rolled his eyes dramatically. “Good lord in the mornin’, you just love the morale-building little lectures. D’you plan them all out in advance? Practice them in front of the bathroom mirror? Still, if you really want to help keep me on the straight and narrow, I do better when incentivized.”

Pike narrowed his eyes, quite certain that whatever the doctor had to say would be wildly inappropriate. “What sort of inventive do you have in mind?”

McCoy gave him a feral grin. “The chief recruiter naked on his hands and knees begging for it would do. That’s the kind of incentive I can get behind.”

Pike buried his face in his hands, trying to hide a reluctant smile. “McCoy, get the fuck out and try to get through it a day at a time, why don’t you?”

* * *

McCoy headed across the grass whistling tunelessly to himself. As he walked he checked his comm for messages.

A priority message had come from the Surgeon-General’s office, informing him of the change of academic advisor and reminding him of that morning’s meeting at 1000. So his pretty captain did have the inside track there. Interesting to know.

He had enough time to get back to his unlamented dorm room, change into his god-awful cadet reds, grab a cup of coffee and make the meeting.

The next message to come up was from Christine, with his new class schedule attached. [[ Great news, got you down to a 3-year track, and have marked some classes you can probably also get out of but will need the permission of your academic advisor. Comm me about a time to help me with the term project. ]] That was better than he’d hoped for and gave him ammunition for his first meeting with Boyce. He suspected Christine was going to be a first-class ally.

After that was a comm from the Kirk kid. [[ BONES!!! Dude, we are so on. Got us the sweetest pad on the edge of the family housing block. We can move in today. ]] He checked out the map linked to the message. The unit was close to the officers’ block where Pike lived. And wasn’t that convenient.

As he was looking at the map, a new message pinged on the comm. He opened it to find Chris Pike’s private comm number. One line came with it. [[ You want incentivizing? You’d better prove to be a very, VERY good little cadet. ]]

McCoy grinned broadly to himself as he strode back to his dorm.

Maybe this whole Starfleet debacle was going to work out after all.

\- THE END -


End file.
